


Reader Inserts: Commander Wolffe

by RowanSparrow



Series: Star Wars: Reader Insert [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bar Room Brawl, Blood, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Multi, Other, Reader-Insert, Sexual Tension, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-01-25 16:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanSparrow/pseuds/RowanSparrow
Summary: A Collection of any and all reader-insert fics and ficlets I've originally posted on my tumblr involving Commander Wolffe, but compiling here for the AO3 community. Please pay attention to the tags, as they will change as I add more stories.
Relationships: CC-3636 | Wolffe/Reader, CC-3636 | Wolffe/You
Series: Star Wars: Reader Insert [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659235
Comments: 5
Kudos: 98





	1. Nightmares

Wolffe jerked awake with a hard gasp, sitting up in bed as he tried to catch his breath. He panted, rubbing his throat as he inhaled long and slow, relishing in the feeling of air filling his lungs. Ever since being trapped in that escape pod with Boost, Sinker, and Plo Koon above Abregado, his nightmares had been flooded with memories of the brothers he lost, being crammed in that cursed pod, and the feeling of the limited, precious oxygen in the tank slowly being pilfered from his lungs. 

“Wolffe?” 

He glanced down at you, the sound of your voice holding his attention for a moment. 

“Wolffe, what is it?” 

“It’s nothing.” Wolffe said, swallowing roughly as he dropped his hands from his throat. He’d made nailmarks in the skin from where he’d clawed at his throat in his sleep. “Go back to sleep.” 

You frowned, rubbing your eyes as you sat up in bed beside him, touching his back gently. “Was it another nightmare?” 

Wolffe sighed, rubbing the heel of his hand into his cybernetic eye, trying to satisfy the phantom itch. 

“Yeah.” he admitted, bitterness seeping into his voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you, love.” 

“It’s okay.” You replied, rubbing his back, trying to soothe him. “Do you want to talk about it?”   
  
Wolffe shook his head. “Just the same thing. Over and over again.” He mumbled, running his hand up through his hair and sighing softly. “Stupid.” 

“It isn’t stupid.” You said, leaning into him and kissing his shoulder gently. “Hey, look at me.”

You cupped his cheek, and gave him a small smile. 

“I love you, no matter what you’ve been through. I love you even when you’re scared, or worried, or upset, or angry.” You kissed him again, slow and warm. “Okay?” 

Wolffe allowed a rare smile to cross his lips, and he kissed you back, pulling you close. “Okay.” He said. “Alright. We can go back to sleep now.” 


	2. Injury

It was his usual rounds. Wolffe liked to walk the base at night, check on his men, on his Jedi, and, of course, on you. You were a mechanic, and spent most of your nights tinkering with the ships down in the flight hangar instead of sleeping like you should have been. One of Wolffe’s routine past times whenever he went on his nightly walkabouts was usually to tell you to shut up, stop working, and go the fuck to sleep. 

He rounded the corner to the flight hangar, surprised at the silence. Usually you had machines whirring and tools running and causing all kinds of racket. The hangar was eerily quiet, and he hummed to himself. Perhaps you’d finally listened and were actually getting some rest for once - 

Wolffe heard a sharp intake of breath, and he paused, turning back over his shoulder. General Koon’s ship, he noticed, had a hatch open on the side, and he could faintly see your toolbox beside it. Of course. 

He sighed, heading over the ship, prepared with a lecture. “I thought I told you a hundred times, Y/N, it’s way past light’s out, you’re supposed to be-.” 

He stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of you. You were clinging to your arm, blood gushing out from between your fingers, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“My - my hand slipped.” you managed weakly, sniffling. “I don’t know what happened, I -.” 

“Little gods, Y/N, are you okay?!” Wolffe asked, immediately dropping to his knees beside you. “Kriff, let me see. Let me _see_, Y/N.” 

You reluctantly pulled your hand away, letting Wolffe closely inspect the wound. 

“We need to get you to the Medical Bay.” Wolffe said firmly. 

“No, no it’s fine!” You protested, sniffling again. “Nothing a bit of Bacta can’t fix. I’m alright, I promise.” 

“You aren’t fine, don’t be an idiot.” 

“I said I’m fine!” 

Your sudden raise of voice gave Wolffe pause, and he grunted angrily under his breath. 

“Fine, fine, no medbay. Just - let me patch you up. Please?” He said, frustrated. 

Reluctantly, you nodded, letting the Commander help you to your feet as he ushered you down the hall to his quarters. 

Once he had you sitting on his bed, he gently cleaned the wound with a wet cloth before applying bacta, wrapping it in a bandage just to be safe. 

“I never took you for the type to be so gentle.” You said, watching his steady hands carefully work. 

Wolffe huffed softly. “All the clones are trained with basic field medical skills.” He muttered, but the tips of his ears turned slightly pink. “’m not that gentle.” 

You smiled to yourself, looking down at your newly bandaged arm. “Thank you, Commander.” You told him, patting his arm affectionately. “I’m sorry I um… I broke down. The blood scared me a bit, and it hurt like nine hells.”

“I’m sure.” Wolffe nodded. “And you don’t have to apologize.” He hesitated a beat, and put one big hand on your head, ruffling your hair just slightly. “Now um. Go on. Get.” He muttered, shooing you away. “Get some sleep.” 

You nodded, rising to your feet and smiling at him over your shoulder before scampering away. 


	3. Defending You

You hadn’t expected to wind up in 79s that evening, but here you were. The clone bar wasn’t a place often inhabited by civvies unless they were looking to get_ especially familiar_ with one of the men who all shared the same face. So, you hadn’t really set out to go to 79s, or maybe you had, and you just didn’t want to admit it to yourself. 

You looked around, leaning over the bar and taking another sip of your drink. A few clones near the bar were checking you out from the corners of their eyes, and two on your left appeared to be nudging one another to try and work up the nerve to come talk to you. 

You chuckled, deciding _fuck it,_ and tossed your drink back in one graceful movement, looking over your shoulder and smirking at the clones on your left. They chuckled, and one of them stood up, starting to come over to you-. 

Until a large, particularly nasty-looking Felucian sidled up to the bar beside you, wrapping one arm possessively around your waist. 

“Hey there missy.” He slurred, his breath reeking of booze as his face got uncomfortably close to yours. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” 

“Get off of me.” You snapped, pushing him away. 

“Aw, come on.” He chuckled, coming close again. “Nobody comes here unless they’re lookin’ to fuck, why else would you wanna hang around a bunch’a Republic product like -.” 

“This guy bothering you?” A voice said from behind him, and the Felucian turned, coming face to face with the two clones who’d been eyeing you from the other side of the bar. 

“Actually, yes.” You said, shoving him off a second time. 

“Leave the lady alone, mate.” One of the clones said, taking the Felucian by the bicep. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch me!” The Felucian shouted, fumbling for his blaster. “You lab rats are a credit a dozen, I’ll fuckin’-.” 

“You’ll what?” 

A big hand came down on the Felucian’s wrist as he drew his gun, pinning his wrist down on the bar. A large clone, armor decorated in the markings of an officer, bore down on the Felucian. 

“Go ahead. Piss me off.” The clone said, tilting his head to the side. “You’ll _what_?” 

The Felucian scowled. “I’ll… I’ll be leavin’.” He muttered. “That’s all I was gonna say.” 

The clone nodded, letting him go. “That’s what I thought. Boost, Sinker,” he said to the two clones from the bar. “Take him outside.”

The men nodded, grabbing the Felucian by the arms and escorting him out roughly. The clone turned back to you. 

“You alright, ma’am?” He asked. Now that he was fully facing you, you could see the jagged scar on his face, and the milky white cybernetic eye replacing the real one. 

“I’m - I’m alright.” You nodded. Your heart rate had picked up. Was it from fear, or was it because you found this clone rather… attractive? “Thank you, uh-.” 

“Wolffe. You here alone?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I just live a few blocks away, I just wanted to get out for a bit.” 

“So you came here?” Wolffe raised an eyebrow. “By yourself?” He chuckled. “Gutsy.” 

You frowned. “I can handle myself.” 

“I’m sure you can, Miss?”

“Y/N.” 

“Right.” He chuckled, nodding to the door. “Need company? Scum like that guy tend to wait outside 79s these days, either to pick up girls like you or beat up men like me.” 

“Men like you? Why?” You asked, following his lead out of the noisy bar. 

“Is that a serious question?” Wolffe asked dryly. “We’re clones. Why _not_?” 

You frowned. “That isn’t fair.” 

Wolffe seemed somewhat surprised, and glanced at you over his shoulder. “No.” He agreed. “No it isn’t.” 

He walked you the rest of the way to your apartment, making sure you made it safely. 

“Well… thank you very much.” You told him quietly. “And thank you for um… for your service as well. In the war.” 

Wolffe nodded. “Of course. Don’t make a habit out of goin’ to bars by yourself in these parts, alright?” He said. “Not that I don’t think you can’t handle yourself, but there won’t always be a handsome officer around to look after someone as beautiful as you.” 

You chuckled, and then realized he’d called you beautiful. 

“Well… good thing you were there.” You said. Hesitated. “If I were to find my way back to 79s at some point… would I find you there?” You asked innocently. 

“You might.” Wolffe replied, a small smirk creeping over his lips. “And if I were to find my way back outside this apartment say… this same time next rotation, would I find you here?” 

“You might.” You replied, a grin sliding onto your face. “Hells, you might even find your way upstairs, if you’re lucky. Give me a chance to thank you properly for your assistance tonight.” 

Wolffe actually chuckled at that. “Well then. I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see what happens, won’t we?” 

You nodded, and stood on your tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before hurrying inside, cheeks flushed. 

You glanced behind you as the doors shut, just in time to see Wolffe smirk and put his helmet back on. 


	4. Dream

It was rare for Wolffe to sleep this easily.

You like to think you had something to do with it. Whether it was the backbreaking sex that pushed him to the brink of exhaustion, or if it was just the knowledge that he was safe, that he was _home, _that sent him into such an easy sleep, you weren’t sure. Perhaps it was some combination of both.

He slept on his tummy, now, snoring softly with his powerful arms wrapped around a pillow, his cheek mashed into the side of it. He looked so peaceful, you didn’t dare wake him. Instead, you propped yourself up on one arm, studying the cording of muscle through his back, eyes lingering on the large tattoo that took up the majority of his back.

It was the symbol of his battalion – the Wolfpack, they called themselves – and Wolffe had gotten the ink shortly after what he would refer to only as “Abregado,” where he, his Jedi, and two fellow soldiers were the only survivors. The tattoo was a memorial, a reminder of the things he lost. Things that would do well to remain in the past.

You traced the wolf’s muzzle with one finger, hand slowly trailing down to its jaw, back up and around to the tips of its ears, your fingers feather light on his back. The touch still sent a little shiver through Wolffe’s sleeping form, and you paused, flattening your palm on his shoulder blade. You felt him stir, beneath your fingertips, and the man huffed softly in his sleep, another twitch rushing through his body. He was having a bad dream.

You knew when he was having nightmares. He would shake, mumble in his sleep, always wake up in a cold sweat. Sometimes, he’d wake with a quiet jolt, and wander off into the living room to be alone with his thoughts for awhile. Other nights, he’d wake up with a scream, and he’d leave in a hurry. He never liked it when you saw him at his most vulnerable.

You didn’t wake him, even as he started to fit in his sleep. Instead, you leaned down to his ear, kissing his jaw gently. “Shh,” you soothed, stroking one hand through his hair. “Shh… you’re okay. You’re alright.”

You brushed your knuckles over his cheek, humming softly under your breath. “You’re okay, sweet boy. You’re home. You’re safe. Shh, that’s it.” You kissed his cheek again, listening to his breathing even out. You smiled, sitting up again and grabbing the blankets, pulling them back up around the two of you.

“I love you.” You murmured, kissing his nose gently.

His breathing was slow and even, relaxing into the mattress. You smiled, and kept your hand on his back, lulling him gently through his nightmares.


End file.
